


i'll stop the world and melt with you

by Wankerville



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ADHD, AU, Alternate Universe: High School, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, add, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wankerville/pseuds/Wankerville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Liam burst into laughter, startling Louis from his internal battle over whether or not salad had feelings, letting his eyes trail to where Niall tried to sneakily steal one of his pickles. He pretended not to notice though, because he took the one on top of his salad deactivating his troubled thoughts of “To Be or Not To Be: Why Pickles aren't in Omelettes.”</em> </p><p>  <em>But that was also when he caught a quick glimpse and saw him and it was like everything went quiet. Every single bad reincarnation of Shakespeare acts in his mind faded away and he forgot what the word pickle even meant, and for once everything was just- quiet.</em></p><p>or high school au where louis has ADD and harry is the only one that can ease his restlessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll stop the world and melt with you

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ:**
> 
> ADD and ADHD affect everyone who has it differently, and some people have it more severely than others. this is not a representation of everyone who has ADD. in this fic louis just has an extreme sort of add and it mostly affects his focusing skills and makes him restless.
> 
> a sequel to this might be written.
> 
> also i use a lot of _italicises._  
> 
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)

i.

Louis lays restlessly on his bed, chewing at his bottom lip as tears brim his eyes, ready to spill over and down his cheeks. He is approximately three seconds away from having a mental breakdown and possibly crying himself an ocean that he will then proceed by drowning himself in. His mind is reeling, reeling, reeling and he just wants it to stop - or at least slow down - because it is becoming too unbearable for the start of a day.

See, the problem is that Louis wants to wear his blue jeans today, paired with his red and white striped shirt. Which wouldn't be a problem if he could find the shirt in question. He is absolutely positive it has been washed, and he is also absolutely _positive_ that he has put it away since then, yet, it is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t know if he put it in the red section, or possibly the white section of his closet, and really, he can’t even remember organising his wardrobe at all. And honestly, he keeps getting distracted from even looking for the sodding shirt in the first place because lately, his little fish Anemone, has been acting strange, which is strange, because Louis doesn't even know how fish are supposed to act.

So he wilts. He wilts like the confused little flower he is because all he wants to do is wear his favourite striped shirt but no matter how hard he looks he can't seem to find it anywhere. His mind is just spinning so so fast and won't slow down long enough to let him focus on looking for it. Everything he sees just feels too vivid, so distracting. Like how his bed seems oddly more comfortable, making him never want to get up, each crease like little coffins to lay down in and possibly never get out of; and each little fleck of dust that floats by his eyes are reminding him that he needs to feed Anemone.

It's just - everything's _deflating_ him. He can feel this heavy disappoint replacing all the air that is in him like a pool floatie deflating because of a hole, and then there is all the little kids staring dejectedly as their mums throw it out. And honestly, he just ???aasDfgkk??

“Lou, darling, why haven't you finished getting dressed?” Louis looks up startled, seeing his mum walk in the room with a gentle smile that quickly turns to a frown when she sees his tear filled eyes. “Oh Lou, sweetie. What's wrong?”

He sighs, tugging at the hem of his pajama shirt, “I can't find my blue and white striped shirt,” he pauses, looking over to the fish tank on his table. His mouth just blabs the words out even though he doesn't want to say them, “and Anemone is acting really weird - and I don't know why - but I think she is dying. How long do Betta fish live? We’ll get a new one if she dies, right?”

Jay smiles sweetly at her boy, reaching out and rubbing his cheek, “Boo, you mean your red and white shirt, if you wear the blue one it clashes, remember?”

“That's what I said?” There are lines between Louis’ eyebrows, confused as he reaches out to poke his finger in Anemones tank.

Jay laughs under her breath, shaking her head as she walks over to Louis’ closet. She looks only for a bit before pulling the desired shirt out of the striped section. Louis doesn't remember having a striped section, but he can feel even more of his metaphoric flower petals falling off of him for not noticing. “And Anemone will be just fine, darling, don't worry about her so much.”

Louis sighs and nods, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye in a another defeated morning.

His mum gives him the shirt and squeezes his shoulder gently, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I'm going to go make the girls breakfast, alright?”

Louis nods, watching her leave with a slump in his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

Slipping on his shirt, he gives himself a once-over in the mirror, lips curling up at his appearance. He always has liked the way he dresses, a ‘punk meets nautical meets downright cute’ - and no, he wouldn't deny himself that. But despite the confidence boost of being cute he wilts for the third time that morning, thinking about how cute is cute and not hot, and how no one else (despite his three mates and his mum) seems to think that he is even slightly attractive. At least Anemone thinks he's cute, or at least she acts like she does. Louis also thinks she acts like she is dying.

Logistics.

Quickly pulling on his white vans and grabbing his homework (that still isn't done because there was this’ and that's and some of thoses-these-thoses), he sets off downstairs. He kisses his mum on the cheek, ignoring her apologetic smile and telling the girls he loves them.

The walk to school is rather uneventful; the leaves that fall to the ground remind him of fish food, though, and he can't quite remember if he fed Anemone before leaving so he quickly texts his mum and asks her if she’ll make sure his lil’ fish is okay. Other than that, there is sidewalk cracks and cigarette butts and stray rocks that he kicks at until he’s at the door of his favourite lil’ coffeeshop.

Le Tawni Cafe, Louis’ little safe haven of soft breathes and sipped teas. He goes everyday before school (usually resulting in being late to his first class), and after school, to calm his racing mind. It's just that the place makes everything feel slower, and when it doesn't make everything feel slower, he is at least able to welcome the racing thoughts with ease because he is at bay here. There is no worrying about feeding fish, or getting dressed, or homework. It is just him and whatever thought that slip into his mind, it’s easy.

There is this one specific booth, though, one where a tear is inevitable in the leather plush of the seating and the word ‘cunt’ is readable from across the room, etched into the wooden tabletop. There are lines and scratches covering the face of it, mapping out each trail a cup full of coffee or tea moved about; a timeline of memories from all the people who have sat there with tears and laughs and sighs of defeat and happiness and the feeling of being content. Every time his finger traces one of those marks a new thought bubbles inside of him and he finds himself daydreaming of the West Coast of America, and David Beckham, and kissing.

Kissing, that is something that comes to mind way too often. He thinks it's because he has never been kissed and it is one of those things, that after a certain age, you just kind of crave with a bit of anguish and jealousy and a sigh-worthy of emotions. His sister has been kissed for sodding’s sake and she still in secondary school.

His mates have also been kissed, all by pretty girls with flowy hair and light eyes. Louis has to let himself wonder if he wasn't gay if he would have been kissed by now, too. Although he can't really remember a time a girl properly talked to him, besides telling him to stop doing whatever he may be doing, that is.

He sighs into the tabletop, adding to the marks sprawled across it, thinking: someday.

 

 

ii.

By the time lunch rolls around, he is exhausted. He has been tardy to three classes, which in natural defense, is _not_ his fault. Teachers keep holding him back, telling him he needs to pay more attention and learn to get his work in on time. It is all he can do not to fall to his knees and start bawling: _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,_ and _Don't you know by now I have a mental disorder and I can't help that I can't do some things?_ and more, _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ [ _s_ ].

A girl talked to him today, though. She said, “Will you please stop tapping your pencil,” and then, “Oh my god, you're tapping your foot now, please stop,” and then, “What is wrong with you, why are you rocking like that? Can't you just sit still?” By the end of the class, he is sure he is twitching awkwardly with blood rolling down his face from how hard he had been biting down on his lip. He knows his problem with paying attention causes others to get distracted, if he could stop it all, he would.

Anyway, he is just absolutely relieved to finally be with his mates, Niall, Zayn, and Liam, who let him rock and tap and move all he wants. He would be nothing without them, except maybe an awkward, blubbering, twitching, mess of a teenager.

Plopping down at their cafeteria table, the first thing he hears is: “Yeah mate, I heard he’s pretty fit.”

Followed by: “Well I guess Nick got to him pretty face, so he has got to be something.”

And: "Nick! Of course _that_ scumbag got him!”

Louis glances between the three, confused, with lines settled between his eyebrows, listening in on the conversation, “Who you talking about, lads?”

“There's this boy--” Louis bites his lip and picks at his food, listening to Zayn ramble about how Nick got to the new kid named Harry too quick for platonic relations, and how apparently this said Harry is quote-on-quote, “the fittest bloke that's graced this school.” Despite whatever’s being said, Louis has more interest in the fact that one of the pickles the lunch lady gave him slithered on top of his salad. Louis hates pickles, too, and it is just _sitting_ there on his lovely salad that he does very much like. (Louis thinks he’ll write a novel: The Tragic Story of Romickles and Salaiette.)

He picks around the pickle and all the little infected lettuce leaves that is continuing to get infected by the pickle and its vinegar juice, briefly wondering if it is acidic and if the salad is slowly dissolving under the toxicness of the pickle. He sort of feels bad for not moving it out of the way after that thought, too, but what can he do now? It is already too late.

Liam bursts into laughter, startling Louis from his internal battle over whether or not salad has feelings, letting his eyes trail to where Niall has tried to sneakily steal one of his pickles. He pretends not to notice, though, because he takes the one on top of his salad, deactivating his troubled thoughts of (“To Be or Not To Be: Why Pickles aren't in Omelettes.”)

But that is also when he catches a quick glimpse of _him_ , and- and it is like everything goes quiet. Every single bad reincarnation of Shakespeare acts in his mind fades away and he forgets what the word pickle even means, and for once, everything is just - quiet.

He’s walking alone, awkwardly and all arms and legs and long, long torso. He has big eyes and big lips and big hair that is a wild and curly mess, framing his face like a mistreated halo. The boy has this look about him, one that screams sex appeal and perfection and Adonis.

Louis blushes, tilting his head as he watches him walk toward the somewhat popular kids table - making Louis wilt for the eighth time that day - and then sit next to a hipsteresque boy named Nick. Louis decides in 0.395 seconds that he no longer likes Nick.

The curly-haired lad grins, an entirety of his cheek caving in in a dimpled smile that makes Louis whine lowly, wanting to poke at them as he stares longingly.

“Lou, Louis?”

Louis blinks, snapping back to the voice calling him. All the quietness leaves him as he hums out some type of response. He slowly lets his eyes wander back to the boy.

“Daydreaming again, Louis?” Liam smirks.

“Who is that?” he blurts out, making Zayn groan.

“That's the new kid, Harry. I was telling you about him, Lou.”

“New kid?” he asks, thinking about how pretty of a name Harry is.

“Jesus Lou, did you forget to take your medication today?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, actually stopping and thinking. He doesn't know for sure if he had taken his medication this morning, really. He doesn't remember doing it, but that doesn't _mean_ he didn't. All he can remember is Anemone swimming really fast through her lil’ tube thats connected to the other tank where she sleeps, or where he thinks she sleeps anyway. Then the new kid, Harry, walked in - and oh, he is eating an apple now. Louis watches as he takes a bite, his white teeth crunching into it. Louis sighs, going to lean on his hand that is propped up on the table with his elbow, until Zayn grabs it and he slips.

“Christ Lou, lets go.”

Now he is being pulled up, receiving apologetic smiles from both Liam and Niall, watching as Niall then starts to eat the infected salad the pickle is on (some are born pickled, some achieve pickled-ness, and others have pickles thrust upon them.)

He gives one last sad glance to Harry who is peering around the cafeteria. Their eyes meet briefly and Louis thinks his heart stops as everything around him blurs. But then the Harry boy is continuing to look at the other students and Louis feels a rush of people come into his vision. The feeling of getting stabbed in the stomach is lucid.

Not metaphorically, but because he really is being stabbed in the stomach. Zayn smiles at him, poking his stomach again, except adding in, “You can't keep forgetting to take these, alright? They _help_ you.”

Louis nods, watching Zayn go ahead of him to ask for his medication at the office (it was a long meeting with the counselor when his ADD was on the loose and awfully severe, Zayn being in all his classes and making sure he was in place. It’s not as bad anymore, but Zayn still holds a onown responsibility of Louis.) He brings Louis back a little plastic cup full of water and his orange and white pills. The water doesn't taste like proper water, though, and a rush of things hit Louis, like if it is the pills making it taste weird, or the salad, or the faint taste of rust still in his mouth from biting his lip in third period.

Zayn pulls him into a tight hug afterwards, mumbling to him that he needs to put them out on his desk so he sees them every morning when he wakes up. Louis ignores that, instead inhaling how nice Zayn smells and mumbling into his chest: “Harry is pretty.”

Zayn laughs loudly, pulling away with a grin on his face and the word ‘futile’ written across his face. He takes the cup from Louis to throw away, voice full of amusement, “Yeah? He is quite fit isn't he?”

Louis nods, sighing happily at the welcoming thoughts of chocolate curls.

 

 

iii.

Louis eats dinner alone that night. Actually, he does every weekday night. His mum is a nurse and doesn't go to work until 3:00 in the afternoon, getting off somewhere around 2:00 in the morning. She claims she trusts Louis to watch the girls but she never leaves them with him for that long of a time period. She just worries a lot, figures that it would only add pressure to Louis’ constant mind process if he had to watch little ones. So they go to a babysitter, then, when she gets off, she picks the girls up and tucks them back into their own beds.

Louis’ seventeen and Jay would feel more comfortable if he was with a sitter, too. But people are wary of babysitting seventeen year old boys with ADD. And it’s not -  he’s never done anything too drastic proving he shouldn’t be trusted to be alone, maybe the occasional meal left in the microwave, and the TV remote in the wrong room, a few broken things from being too reckless or distracted, but. It’s not that his ADD is as severe as it used to be when he was younger and didn’t understand, but. She is just a busy mother and it is her job to worry.

Louis’ night is spent trying to finish all his homework which is as difficult a task as it always has been. It’s not that he isn't smart, it's just staying focused on it when there is so many other things too focus on, things that would hold his attention much longer, and do.

(Anemone is swimming weirdly, and curly hair keeps crossing his mind, and he wants so desperately to be kissed that he transiently wonders if there is a type of prostitution for that.)

The work doesn't get done.

 

 

iv.

As weeks pass, Harry sticks inside Louis’ mind and the spaces of his breathing and in the whines of his breath. It is shocking to say the least, because Louis is use to having little crushes; ones that come and go as more exciting things learn to distract him. He is used to pining over pretty boys, but he never imagines tracing their eyelids, or tangling his fingers in their hair, or wonders what colours etch around their pupils. He doesn't remember ever feeling this way about Zayn, and Zayn is gorgeous. Harry just - there is something about him that makes Louis’ mind slow down and heart pick up, his breath getting taken away. He is just so damn pretty and Louis is hopelessly crushing on him. He honestly doesn't think he has ever felt this way about anything. All inflated and then deflated, crushed and gooey, breathless. None of it makes sense.

Louis doesn't even get distracted from Harry, is the big thing and the point of all this. If anything, Harry is a distraction from distractions, and that is confusing but everything is confusing at this point. Louis just wants so badly to trail his fingers through Harry's hair and poke at his dimples and make him laugh.

He sighs, looking down at the cafeteria table and tracing circles there with his thumb. When he looks back up, Harry is laughing, his head thrown back and mouth wide open. Louis sighs again, loud and sad, reeling out his bottom lip in a pout and wishing he could be the one making Harry laugh like that.

“Louis doesn't even care about us anymore!” Niall screams, crying into Liam's chest loudly and quite fakely, but Zayn is the only one who notices because Louis is still too busy staring at the boy across the cafeteria. He isn't really all that subtle about his little crush, but, Louis isn't really subtle about anything.

Louis eats a pickle, not even noticing he eats a pickle (‘hell is empty and all the pickles are here,’ is what crosses his mind once he notices the after taste of it.) Sighing _again_ , he hits his head against the table, still turning it enough though so he can peek out and see chocolate curls and cherry lips.

Zayn hits Louis’ arm to get his attention, “Mate, you are crushing.”

Louis shakes his head as frantically as he can, “No ‘m’not.”

Niall chokes on laughter.

“All you ever do is stare at him mate, you didn't even notice Nia-”

“I know Niall takes my pickles, I don't like them anyway!”

“He notices that?” Niall gaspes, mumbling to himself.

“What I was going to say,” Zayn starts again amusedly, “is that you didn't even notice that Niall was _crying_.”

Louis frowns, looking over to Niall, “What's wrong, Ni?”

Niall pouts, crossing his arms.

“I'm so sorry Ni, do you want the rest of my pickles?” (‘Pickles always haunt the guilty mind.’)

“He wasn't actually crying, you prat.” Liam says, rolling his eyes.

“Then why’d you say that!”

They all roll their eyes, Niall grabbing a handful of the pickles.

Louis huffs, reeling out his bottom lip and getting up to dump his tray.

He misses Harry glance at him. The lads don't.

 

 

v.

Hey, Harry mate!” Zayn yells, waving at the curly-haired boy who glances around confused in the nearly empty hallway. His mouth falls into a little ‘oh’ as he see’s them, surprised.

“Hey mate, I'm Zayn. This is Niall, and that,” Zayn points down the hall, “is Liam.”

Harry waves at them, greeting Liam with a warm smile as he joins the rest of them.

“Oh hello, I asked Nick about you guys but he said he didn't know anything. What do you lads need?” Harry asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Niall scoffs, mumbling under his breath something about Nick and Liam kicks him.

“Well, we were wondering if you could do a favour for us?” Zayn speaks, glaring at Niall.

Harry bites his lip, confused and very unsure, “Um, what is it?”

“Well we - do you need community hours to graduate still?”

Harry nods, scratching his head. “Yeah, still don't know what to do about that actually. I'm not too familiar with this place yet and haven’t been up to searching for anything.”

“Well, we have this mate, who, uh - needs a bit of tutoring,” Zayn pauses, “well not tutoring exactly, more of…” he trails off, thinking of a way to discreetly phrase it.

Liam picks up for him, though, “He has a severe type of ADD, he is actually quite smart.”

Zayn gives Liam a weary look for telling Harry, knowing Louis will already be mad enough for setting Harry up as his tutor without asking him first. Despite it, he continues, “Yeah, so we've tried helping Louis - oh. that's his name by the way - but we’re all good mates and end up playing fifa or summat instead. Plus we all have our hours in.”

“Louis? Isn't he the lad with stripes?” Harry pauses, smiling and the boys nod, trying to hold back their smirks. Harry bites his lip, blushing lightly because he has been watching Louis a bit, likes how small and full of energy he is. “I um. I suppose I could give it a go, but - isn’t there like, a committee for tutoring?”

“There’s a waiting line for times to get help,” Niall covers quickly, “and Louis doesn’t need tutoring, just someone who can keep ‘em focused on his work.”

Harry blinks, nodding, “I could probably do that, least give it a shot?”

Zayn beams - _fucking beams_ \- and hands Harry his phone, “Sick, mate. Give me your number and I'll text you where he lives and stuff.”

Harry smiles sheepishly, tapping his contact information in, “‘m’glad to help.”

 

 

vi.

“Anemone, if I could put some on you I would, but then I’d have to change your water again,” Louis states sadly, looking down to his little fish that is swimming around in her round fishbowl (Louis calls it her mobile home). He looks back to the mirror, squirting toothpaste on his finger and rubbing it on his face. Apparently it gets rid of pimples, and even though Louis doesn’t have any - never really has -he thinks it’s bound to happen eventually, so this is him taking steps to stop it now.

_Ding._

Louis looks down to his fish confused, also a bit startled, “Who would be here right now?”

He grabs Anemone’s bowl, smearing a bit of toothpaste across the edges as he walks out of the bathroom, wondering who could be here. The lads just walk right in, aside from Liam, but he always texts before coming over. Louis checks his pocket for his phone but doesn't find it.

“Oh, well. It's probably just Liam.”

He hears the doorbell go off again and he quickly makes his way downstairs, rolling his eyes and dramatically huffing, “Just a second, Li, I’m coming, god.”

He mumbles under his breath something to Anemone, undoing the lock and - _oh_.

“You're not Liam.”

Harry blinks. Louis has toothpaste all over his face and is carrying a fishbowl. “I'm Harry? Your tutor?” he smiles kind of sadly and Louis doesn't know why. He also doesn't know why Harry thinks he is his tutor. He also realises that this is Harry, as in pretty Harry with the pretty curls and long limbs and nice teeth. He blushes, biting at his lip and smiling in a way he imagines is cute, sinking into that deep voice that rings in his ears.

“I never signed up for a tutor,” he shifts Anemone into his other arm, suddenly making water slosh out onto the doorstep and he stares at it with a bit of a horrific look.

“Your mate Zayn said he would tell you I was coming.”

Louis looks up from the puddle of water, groaning and rolling his eyes, “Zayn? Jesus Im goin-” Louis screeches. He has _toothpaste_ on his _face_.

It makes Harry jump back, eyes wide as he stumbles off the porch step and falls to his bum.

“Are you _alright_?” he asks, not even acknowledging that he’s the one on the ground. Louis mumbles a series of ‘shit, shit shit[s]’ under his breath,  frantically wiping at his face with his hand that isn’t holding the fishbowl, and then rubbing it on his pumpkin orange jeans, which makes him screech again, because he loves his pumpkin orange jeans.

“I’m fine, I-” Louis glances up to Harry with a bit of a horrified look, and Harry looks - well - Louis doesn't know how he looks, but it’s something like scared and worried, sort of in pain as he lays there on the ground, tilted up on his elbows with furrowed eyebrows. All Louis really knows is that there is a sadness spreading through him like a forest fire, destroying all hope of leaving a normal first impression.

“I- I have toothpaste on my face-I- I swear I’m not- it’s not- I- are _you_ okay?”

Harry’s eyebrows line further, and then it’s like it just now hits him that he’s still on the ground. Quickly, he picks himself up and dusts his bum off with a bit of a wince. “I’m- yeah. I’m fine. Um. Is this - like - a bad time? Are you -”

“No!” Harry startles again, nearly falling right back off the step and Louis curses, “I just- no. You - you can come in - I guess, I mean - you can still tutor - I - will you hold this?” Louis hands Harry his fishbowl, more water sloshing out as he quickly runs upstairs to change into his black, comfort jeggings. But then he realises that he only wears his comfort jeggings with his comfort shirts, so he changes into a quick tee. He sees his phone out of the corner of his eyes and quickly grabs it to see Zayn's text about a tutor, and then - then - Harry is still downstairs holding his fish. Louis screams a little, running back down the stairs.

He finds Harry standing in the middle of his living room, carefully holding the fishbowl and peering over the edge of it, watching lil’ Anemone swim. Louis sighs a bit, thinking about how he could watch Harry hold his fish for days, maybe weeks at a time. He sighs again, blurting out the words before he can even think what he is saying, “Does she look like she is dying?”

Harry looks up startled - it seems that’s all Louis can do to him - eyes wide, “ _What?_ ”

“She has been acting kinda funny lately. Her name is Anemone.”

Harry laughs under his breath, then, an odd tension leaving within him. He looks up from the fish bowl again and Louis thinks his eyes look more sparkly than before - like Disney princess sparkly. “You named her Anmony- no, animini- _anomony_ -”

Louis snorts, walking over to Harry, no urge or pressing thoughts of anything around him, just Harry. Harry. Harry, right in front of him.

“Anemone,” Harry keeps laughing, “why did you name her after a _sea_ plant?”

Louis shrugs, “It made sense at the time”

Harry nods, biting his lip.

Exactly twelve seconds pass before he decides to speak up again, “So, uhm, tutoring?”

Harry bites his lip, Louis can already tell its a bad habit, “Do you still want me to? I thought you knew but,” he trails off, glancing back into the fishbowl.

“Well I probably should keep my phone on me. And Zayn’s a prick, a huge prick, but. If you still want to you can - I mean, it doesn't hurt to have some help, I suppose,” Louis smiles, fumbling around with his words before gently taking the fishbowl out of Harry's hands.

“Yeah, of course I don't mind.”

Except:

Tutoring doesn't necessarily go the way either planned it to go. Louis can't concentrate on anything but Harry; his lazy eyelids and plump lips and the mottled colours of his eyes with flecks of gold like stars shooting across the night sky reflecting off sea-green water. The way his voice rolls out in the same slow way honey drips from a jar.

(Louis isn't a poet, but he has composed thirty-two sonnets on his eyelashes alone.)

It's just a bit distracting, which is humorously ironic, but.

Then:

It's hard for Harry too, because Louis wears stripes and his first words to him were, ' _you're not liam,_ ' and there is toothpaste residue stuck in his eyebrows. Yet his heart is still _fluttering_ and he finds Louis to be the most endearing and pretty gem he’s ever seen; with all its little cracks and rough edges. He speaks like sandpaper and makes sarcastic remarks and snorts and it’s a fresh counter to Nicks constant flow of sexual innuendos and penis jokes.

“Did you know when I was little I got picked on? So my mum got me this little fishy because at the time it just me and her in an apartment and we couldn’t have bigger pets and- Anyway, now she's my best friend, probably. I love her loads and loads, ‘cept now I got the lads. They're not as pretty though, well except Zayn. Zayn is very pretty, but he knows that. I don't think Anemone _knows_ how pretty she is, ya’know?” Louis has his finger in the water, swirling it in slow circles around Anemone, who swims about startled looking, coming up to nibble at the pad of his fingertip or something, “I just love sea things.”

Harry smiles sadly, not really wanting to picture a little Louis getting picked on with little tears streaming down his little face, pouting his little, little lips. It all hurts more than it should for someone he has only just met a couple of hours ago. (He also feels a sick knot in his stomach at the thought of Louis thinking Zayn is pretty, even though he is. Much prettier than himself, that is.) He mentions neither, though, instead: “They live that long?”

Louis sighs sadly, looking up from the water, “Well, no. They only live a couple of years, but I get the same colour and name it Anemone so it's kinda the same fish, ya’know?”

Harry thinks that is one of the saddest things he has ever heard.

“That sounded so pathetic, god,” Louis rolls his eyes, “‘s’just that my first Anemone was what got me interested in fish which made me interested in marine biology in general. Jus’ a sap for my fish, not pathetic.” Well, sometimes pathetic, Louis doesn’t say that though.

Harry smiles, then, because that makes it better, makes it a lot less sad. “Marine biology’s cool,” he murmurs, blushing as he continues, “and jus’ so ya’ know I think she is very pretty, even prettier than Zayn if you ask me.”

Louis glances up quickly, absolutely beaming, and he squishes his face up against the glass bowl, “You hear that Anemone? Curly thinks you're prettier than _Zayn_.”

Harry bites back a face splitting grin, feeling himself giggle watching Louis.

It is not often that one experiences the feeling of melting.

 

 

vi.

The next day at school Harry smiles and waves to Louis in the lunchroom, making Louis blush and sputter out a happy smile, ignoring the little ‘ _oohs_ ’ that come from the lads whilst he waves back shyly, but. Then he remembers that _they_ did this and he quickly turns to them to glare, slapping each of them, (then kissing all of their cheeks to thank them profusely.)

(Harry only catches Louis kissing Zayn's cheek, though, and feels the same jealous knot form in his stomach. He pinches himself because he has only talked to Louis once and shouldn't feel like this.)

 

 

vii.

That night Harry comes over again, making Louis squeal and bubble with happiness, because he wasn't sure if he was ever coming back after the toothpaste and screeching and the fact that he couldn't stop staring, probably coming off as some type of mental case. Oh well. First impressions will be first impressions, Harry came back over and that's the important thing.

They try tutoring again but Louis gets frustrated by Harry's dimples and perfect teeth and the way his voice is so soothing. It makes tears brim his eyes. Harry does his best at assuring him it is okay if he can't focus, and closes the book for him. He wants so badly to cup his pretty little face and wipe all those tears away, but instead: “We can do something else, yeah? No big deal, mate.”

Louis nods, wiping at his cheeks and sighing, feeling pathetic and wilting. In a split second want to take Harry's mind away from the fact that he is bawling over homework, he blurts in a tiny voice, “I can make you a smoothie if you want?”

Harry hums happily, softly replying, “That sounds fantastic.”

“Zayn taught me how to make this kind, they're my favourites.” Louis chews the inside of his cheek, already feeling so much calmer now that he is away from homework.

Harry hums again, not as happily but as an acknowledgement, stealing one of the strawberries that Louis sets out on the table whilst he pours milk in the blender. He adds a bunch of other fruits and tablespoon of cinnamon, only slightly flinching when the loud buzzer of the blender goes off. When it's done, Louis tastes of it first, then topping it off with some whipped cream.

“They're the best of the best, _trust_ me.” He says handing Harry his own. He turns around to pour himself one and when he turns back Harry’s eyes are wide and he is still drinking.

“This is amazing, oh my _god_ ,” he pulls back to say, licking over his lips.

Louis grins, murmuring around his straw, “I know, right?”

Harry moans around the straw, which only makes Louis glance away flushed, and he says: “God, I wish _I_ had a boyfriend who would give me ace smoothie recipes.”

Louis chokes, sputtering on his smoothie. “ _What?_ ” he laughs, his face red and eyes bright.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, blushing, “I - um - I thought since, you know - all the complimenting and the touching a-”

“Zayn, he's not- he's not _gay_.” Louis cackles, “he's so straight he could probably turn me straight.”

Harry bushes again, biting at his straw and looking at his feet.

“I - fuck,” Louis mumbles, “ you don’t - you don't, like, _mind_ that, do you?” he asks, making a gesture in the air as if his sexuality was there.

“No- I- of course I don't. Why would you think I would?”

“I don't know, some people just don't- I don't know- _like_ it.”

“Well, I can't really hate something I am too, so,” Harry blushes saying it outloud, not having come out to anyone in his new home. He watches as a large smile spreads across Louis’ face, pink tinting his cheeks to match his own, and that’s, well, that’s fucking fantastic.

 

 

viii.

Harry comes back every night to tutor Louis. Sometimes they get a lot done, other nights they can only get as far as opening the textbook. Neither mind, though, because whether they are being productive or not, they are together and stealing glances and letting out giggles into their hands that they try to cover up. So.

Harry gets use to saying ‘hi’ to Anemone every time he’s over and if he _really_ wants to make Louis beam he will just gush to her how _beautiful_ she is, watching Louis bite his lip next to him with crinkly eyes and a face-splitting grin. Louis learns (kind of) to cook a proper meal (macaroni and cheese) and much to his own surprise he doesn't get distracted from it about it and burn it, if burning macaroni is even possible. It’s for Harry, though, and all Louis wants it to impress Harry. If making the goods gets him the goods, then he’ll definitely make the goods, tons of the goods, _buckets_ of the goods.

Louis is completely and hopelessly gone for the boy.

They learn a lot about each other, like how Harry is a vegetarian and Louis isnt, and how Harry loves classic rock and Louis likes punk. Harry also learns Louis really likes to talk. And it’s not like, a _symptom_ or anything, he just has a genuine love for telling Harry absolutely _anything_ that pops into his head. Louis fills spaces of air that Harry didn't even knew existed before with all his little rambles. Harry loves that - he loves it so much he thinks it may be becoming a bit of a problem for how much he craves to hear Louis talk about sea creatures and kissing and the ocean and the way clouds sweat.

(Is there a type of counselling for pretty boys rambling? Because Harry needs it asap.)

During lunch at school Harry still sits with Nick, which always makes Louis wilt a little, but he can see Harry’s point in not wanting to ditch him out of the blue (though Louis thinks Nick deserves it.) Harry makes up for it, though, always sending him silly faces across the cafeteria that Louis happily returns, and on good days, Niall will join in too whilst Liam and Zayn sit back and fondly ponder their future.

(“What do you think their kids names will be?” “Well hopefully any name but one that is after a sea plant.” “I don't know, I think Urchin has a ring to it.” “Liam, I swear to god.”)

Harry starts walking with Louis back to his house after school, also getting into habit of stopping by the little cafe to drink tea with him. Louis tells him how the little place is special to him, therefore it becomes special to Harry too. Louis still daydreams of kissing (and falling in love, now) in the breaks they take to sip on their teas, staring at Harrys lips whilst doing so. (Louis learns that Harry licks them a lot, and takes bites of food with his fucking tongue hanging out. It’s disgustingly mesmerising - Louis loathes it.)

On particularly bad days, when talking isn't something either want to do, they write notes to each other on napkins, (“I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” “That sounds like a lot of hard work, pass the sugar?”) Louis doesn't know, but Harry snatches every single one and keeps them in the drawer beside his bed.

After just coming over after school tho,ugh, Harry begins coming over on the weekends too to hang out with the girls and Jay. He braids the girls hair and plays tea-time, lets them put make-up on him and tangle tiaras into his hair, all whilst Louis sits across from him with painted fingernails and a skirt on, sipping from his tea that’s in a teeny ‘my little pony’ cup.

(One special day when the girls are piled on top of Louis tickling him, Jay pulls Harry to the side and gives him a big hug, whispering in his ear a million thank you’, because she's ‘never seen Louis so focused on something’ (she knew because all Louis would talk to her about anymore was ‘Harry this’ and ‘Harry that.’) She was just happy it was something worth focusing on.

But then there are the really bad days. Days when Louis’ gone all day without his medication and slowly turns into his own self-destruction of distractions and racing thoughts. He can't focus on anything, just wants to curl up and stare at Harry and watch the way his tongue flicks out over his lips, and how his eyelashes flutter and the way his pupils dilate in different lighting. Harry knows he's trying, can hear it with each frustrated sigh, see it with each bite of his lip and feel it with every tear he wipes away, murmuring to him: _it’s okay lou, everything is okay, i know youre trying_.

(They like to sit on the floor opposite of each other, do their homework between chewed pencils and stolen glances, soft whispers back and forth.

When Harry’s away from Louis, he likes to read about ADD and ADHD, trying to figure out every single detail about it so he can be better for Louis. That’s all he ever wants, to be the best person for Louis, because thats all he deserves, someone who wants to be their best for him.

Louis doesn’t realise that Harry knows.)

 

 

ix.

It’s a few months into their friendship, and _honestly_ , everyone is just completely and utterly _done_ with how grossly _obvious_ it is. They're sick of the _heart eyes_ and the _fondness_ and all the _little touches_ that are completely just ‘ _little touches_ ’ and ‘ _nothing more._ ’ There is a literal radiance that comes from them, a _god-we-are-so-in-love_ vibe that everyone can see and feel and realise _but_ Harry and Louis.

It’s also 9:06 on a Thursday night, the moon is up and bright behind the thick clouds swirling outside and Harry is still at Louis’. Normally, he would have left by now, but it’s not normally. So, Louis forces Harry to stay the night, too scared for his little Harry to walk home alone when it’s so dark out.

“Did you make sure it was okay first?” Louis whines excitedly whilst squeezing a pillow and jumping up and down on his mattress like an 8 year old and definitely not a 17 year old.

“ _Yeeees_.” Harry whines back.

Louis sticks his tongue out, before suddenly stopping his jumping and getting off the bed. “Hey, do you wanna feed Anemone tonight? I never, ever, let anyone feed her her bedtime meal but me, because it’s my thing, but I will let you do it if you want.”

Harry blushes, nodding happily and taking the fish food Louis has handed to him with great honour.

“I don't even let the lads do it, not even _Zayn_.”

Harry’s eyes widen. He feels extremely honoured now.

“How much?” He asks, unscrewing the lid and glancing up to Louis.

“Just a little pinch or else I’m making you clean the fish bowl tomorrow.”

Harry snorts and sprinkles a little finger pinch of food into the water.

“Also do you need _pajamas_?” Louis asks, already distracted because _Harry!!!_ is spending the _night!!!_

“Uhm, yeah, if you don't mind? Just a shirt and stuff. I don't want’a smell too bad for school tomorrow.”

Louis scrunches his nose up in agreeance, “Well, _Harold_. I don't know if you’ve noticed,” Louis gestures to himself, “but I’m quite smaller than you and your ridiculous yeti body, so.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head as Louis turns to look through his drawers and wardrobe. Finally, he decides on an orange and white thin fabriced t-shirt, tossing it to Harry. “I _never_ let people wear my stripes so you should feel lucky,” he teases.

Harry does.

“Now, young Harold, I just sleep in my boxers,” Louis’ digging through another drawer now, “what about you?” he asks, turning to look at Harry only to be met with the sight of him bare chested and pulling the shirt over top his head and, well. Louis stares, but fuck him, you cant blame him. Harry’s ridiculously fit with his milky skin and long torso and stupid muscles. Anyone would have done the same. Instead of saying anything along the lines of that, though, he takes note of Harry’s nips. “Heeey, you have four nipples!” Louis laughs at him, turning away only to laugh harder.

“Don't be jealous, now” Harry retorts, pulling the shirt down completely, “and yeah, I do sleep in my boxers, if that doesn't bother you?”

“No, no, I don't mind. Would you like to borrow a pair, I know they’ll fit, see, I’ve got quite the arse.”

“I’ve noticed, but its fine. Maybe a pair tomorrow, though.”

“Wait, _what?_ Is it really that noticeable?” Louis asks quickly, running his hands down over his arsecheeks and squeezing.

Harry, _fuck_. Harry flushes red and looks away, because _yeah_ , it is noticeable. Noticeable in the way that he wanks over it every night.

He doesn’t say that for obvious reasons, though, instead flusteredly mumbling, “Uhm yeah. But it’s the good type of noticeable, y’know? Nice and full.” Harry blushes harder, shyly shrugging at Louis who is grinning back at him.

“Turn around then, ya perv. Give a lady her privacy.” Louis jokes.

“You got to see _me_ ,” Harry pouts, sitting on Louis’ bed and crossing his arms over his chest, blush slowly fading.

“Yeah, great. You in all of your four puffy nipple glory.”

“ _Heeey_.” Harry reels his bottom lip out, bringing his fingers up to poke at his nipples through the fabric of the shirt.

“Oh, fine. I’ll just turn around then.”

It isn't that Louis really values privacy, doesn’t mind if the lads see, and it isn’t that he’s insecure or anything of the such, he knows he’s cute, and that’s the problem. He is cute, not _hot_ , or _fit,_ or boner-inducing attractive, like Harry, who is all lean and gorgeous. Louis is cute, and adorable, and has a stupid pudge stomach that is all too _cute_. The last thing he wants to happen is Harry to ‘aw’ when he sees him shirtless. So of course he caves in and saves himself from that possible embarrassment. It’s all very logical inside his mind.

Harry tries really hard not to watch as Louis strip his pants and slip on a fresh pair. But fuck, Louis’ arse is right there naked in front of him, and every night of biting back moans whilst he jerks himself to the image of it comes flooding back and he figures it wouldn't hurt to have a few mental pictures. So sure him

Louis’ skin is gorgeous, naturally sun-kissed and glowing. And his arse, god, it’s the best arse he’s ever seen. Round and full and overwhelming. All Harry can think about is if he dripped water down Louis’ spine how it would all pool above his arse in the dip of his back. Louis’ just so fucking hot. So fucking _sexy_.

Harry rubs at his face, blushing harder and forcing himself to look away as he asks, “Where am I going to sleep tonight?”

Louis finishes with changing into different boxers and a shirt, turning around and walking toward the bed, “Well whenever the lads stay over they just sleep in the bed with me.” Louis crawls behind Harry and under the duvet, muffling, “We’ve all squeezed in here a few times, probably sounds a bit weird but it’s really not. Nialls a great cuddler, farts a lot, but a great cuddler.” Louis’ head pops out at the other end of the bed from under the blanket with fluffy hair and a dopey grin. “But I can sleep on the couch if thats’ whats comfortable for you.” Louis looks down as he says it, fumbling with the edge of his duvet because he would want nothing more than Harry to sleep in the same bed with him.

“I don't mind sharing, if you don't.”

Louis lets out a breath of relief. “Oh thank fucking god, finally get to put those yeti limbs to use, get ready for the cuddle of a lifetime. ”

Harry snorts, crawling up the bed and falling next to Louis. Louis lifts the duvet up for him with a waggle of his eyebrows, allowing Harry to crawl in beside him, their knees knocking together. “My yeti limbs are very useful, I’ll have you know.”

Harry is heaps of boy arms and legs next to him and Louis just rolls his eyes and latches onto him like a koala, wrapping around him immediately and giggling into his neck. Harry turns his nose into Louis’ hair, nuzzling against his head and thinking about how he can smell a mixture of cinnamon and musky shampoo.

“Did you just _smell_ me?”

“Mm, maybe.”

Louis just huffs, snuggling in closer.

It’s quiet for awhile until Louis nuzzles Harry's neck with his nose and murmurs into his ear, “You forgot to turn the light off, _honey_.”

Harry groans, “Just get under the covers, sweetheart, then it’ll be dark.”

Louis smacks his chest. “ _Haaarry._ ”

Harry pretends to already be fucking asleep, snoring loudly with his mouth wide open and drool rolling out of the corner of his mouth.

Louis grumbles, “You are _literally_ the biggest twat I know.” He rolls over Harrys body and out the other side of the bed to turn the light off, cursing lightly under his breath. Harry peaks an eye open to watch him, smiling at how cute he is acting with his huffed breaths and crossed arms.

Louis crawls back into bed, but instead of going to his side he rolls on top of Harry and pulls the covers over himself, snuggling into Harry's chest. “M’gonna have to sleep on you now, your punishment.”

Harry laughs loudly and Louis feels the way it rumbles through his chest and into his own, making his heart flutter in his ribcage. Harry gently moves his leg over, letting Louis’ legs slot between his so he’ll be more comfortable. He wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tight against himself, mumbling, “S’best punishment.”

Louis lets out a small breath, relaxing on top of him, letting the silence beat down on him. Then he’s thinking, thinking, thinking and the words are once again slipping through his lips before he has time to think about what hes asking.

“Hey, Harry?”

Harry hums to him, tightening his grip around his waist and Louis can’t stop the words.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Louis feels him nod ‘yes,’ and then ask: “Yeah, why?”

Louis shrugs, sighing, “Just wondering what it feels like, I've never been kissed,” he buries his head into Harry's chest, inhaling softly.

He feels Harry laugh beneath him again, so he digs his nails into Harry's side, “I know it’s stupid, but you don't have to _laugh_.”

Harry stops. “No Lou, I wasn’t- I wasn’t laughing because of that. I’m laughing because I can't believe no one has ever wanted kiss you before and just done it.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, lifting his head to place his chin against Harry's chest to stare up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just- you're really like- _beautiful_ and funny and stuff, and I’m just shocked no one has saw that and wanted to kiss you so bad that they just, like, _did_ , or something.”

Louis blushes, laying his head back against Harry's chest and thinking, feeling warm all over as he chews at his lip nervously, “Do- do _you_ want to kiss me?”

It’s silent, but Louis feels Harry drawing shapes onto his back, the warm press of his thumb soothing him with tiny circles and triangles until a tiny breath is released, Harry exhaling, “Yeah.”

Louis smiles against Harry's chest, feeling as Harry's fingers stutter with their shape drawing and opt for trailing up and down his back instead. Louis hears the way Harrys heart is thumping in his chest and that’s what gives him enough confidence to ask. “Would you?”

Harry inhales, “Would I what, Lou?”

“Kiss me?”

Harry doesn’t wait as long to answer this time, just quietly murmures into Louis’ hair, “‘course.”

“How about right now?” he urges, grinning.

Harry bites his lip, “Do- do you want me too?”

“Yeah.”

Harry swallows, his chest-tightening and throat drying as he stares at Louis who has mirth in his eyes despite the darkness around them. Louis is beautiful, so beautiful, and Harry just- he cant believe no one has wanted to kiss this boy, and he doesn't want Louis to regret his first kiss, and all he can think is how much he really does want to kiss him. His mind is just _racing, racing, racing_ , and he wonders if this is what it’s like for Louis all of the time.

Louis’ smile falters a bit as he brings one of his hands up, trailing circles over Harry's chest with his fingertips as he whispers, “I've just never been kissed is all.”

Harry brushes Louis’ fringe to the side, letting his thumb stroke over his cheekbone. He wants to wait for Louis to make some sort of move, wants Louis to want to do this himself, wants him not to regret just giving his first kiss away to one of his mates (wants to be more than mates.) So they stay like that, just staring at each other, curiosity looming in their eyes and hearts beating with the constant tick of: _come closer_.

“I can kiss you.” His hand cups Louis’ cheek fully now, thumb gently brushing under his eye.

Louis nods, waiting, before: “Wait, where do I put my hands?” and Harry breaks out laughing, loud with his mouth open and eyes-closed, feeling the thin tension in the air get cut away, and all of _this_ , it’s so casual but at the same time so _much_ , so absurd. Overwhelming in the best and easiest way.

Louis blushes, slapping Harry's chest anxiously and giggling, “M’ _serious_.”

Harry giggles again, running his hand over Louis’ cheek that’s warm under his fingertips, and down to his side, gently pushing Louis off of him. “Here, budge over real fast,” he turns over so he’s lying on his side beside Louis, both boys facing each other now with bright eyes and pink cheeks covered by blackness.

“So you had enough energy to do that but not turn the light off?”

Harry giggles, blushing harder, “Shut up or I won’t kiss you.”

Louis shuts up. He also tries to subtly scoot closer to Harry but ends up knocking their knees together, making himself blush and giggle nervously, a gleeful feeling spreading through his tummy as Harry pushes closer too, his soft breathing hitting against Louis’ face.

“Just, uh, here-”

Harry takes Louis’ hand that isn’t pushed up against his chest and places it on his waist, feeling his hot fingertips burn through the fabric of the shirt to his skin. He carefully puts his own hands on Louis’ face again, lightly running his thumb across his cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers, watching as Louis wets his lips and lets his eyes flutter shut. “Okay, Im going to - I’m going to kiss you now, alright?”

Louis nods slightly, slowly, a happy noise forming in his throat as Harry's warm breaths got closer, blooming across his face. He just - he's so _happy_. This is his _first_ kiss, and it’s with _Harry_ , who is so _pretty_. All he can think is, _please come closer_.

Louis’ so happy that he can't even contain the smile that spreads across his face right before the gentle press of Harry’s lips are against his own. Soft and gentle and perfect. Harry smiles against Louis’ mouth, moving his lips slowly and gently against Louis’. He moves one of his hands to the back of Louis’ neck and can feel Louis squeezing his hip, pulling him closer. It’s just soft and chaste and heartwarming, like a first kiss should be. Harry plants one last gentle kiss against Louis lips, reluctantly and finally pulling away, but not very far.

When he opens his eyes to see Louis, he is beaming, eyes still closed and hand still gripping his side. He sighs happily, watching Louis’ eyes finally flicker open.

Louis copies Harrys happy sigh, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and snuggling into his chest, cheeks flushed red. “Thank you.”

Harry giggled again, nervously, “Was it good?”

“Definitely.”

Harry hums into his hair, kissing the top of’ head. “I’d do anything for you, you know.”

All Louis can do is bite his lip, holding back the overwhelming heat spreading through him as he mumbles, “Night Harry.”

 

 

x.

Harry wakes up to soft breathes spanning across his face and a heavy weight between his collarbones. He peaks an eye open to see Louis, dopey-eyed with a little grin, watching him blink away tiredness.

“Morning,” Harry whispers, clearing his throat of its raspiness.

Louis huffs out a happy noise, leaning up and placing a soft kiss to Harry's jaw, flushing with embarrassment as he peers through his lashes to make sure that that is okay. Harry grins, blushing red with a fluttering heart.

“Just can't get enough of me now, huh?”

Louis hits him with a pillow.

Here's the rest of the morning:

Louis freaks out because he can't find his plain white shirt, tears brimming his eyes as Harry hugs him and murmurs to him that he’ll find it. He does, too, mixed in with the purple section which makes both of them giggle. (“See it’s not your fault Lou, you’re fine.”)

Harry asks to borrow a shirt and Louis nods pliantly with dopey eyes, biting his lip as he rummages through his shirts to find one that will fit. Louis watches Harry get dressed in a black and white striped shirt and Harry watches Louis’ back dip, flushing with embarrassment when Louis catches him.

Louis lets Harry feed Anemone again, cooing when he hears him whisper: “You look extra beautiful on this fine morning.”

They both kiss Jay on the cheek when they leave with face-splitting smiles, Louis hurrying out before his mum can ask if he took his medication, purposefully forgetting because he hasn't _told_ Harry yet, and it’s not - it’s not a _big_ deal, it’s just- it’s worrying him. Because medication or not it’s still apart of who he is and it’s still something that affects his life, but at least Harry not knowing means he’s normal in his eyes. That’s all he wants, is for Harry to think he’s normal.

They happily stumble into the cafe together. There is giggles into tea cups and hands and the heavy air around them, playing footsie under the table as their eyes shine a little brighter and their laughs are a little more carefree.

They both get to school late, wrapped around each other and laughing into each others necks with flushed cheeks. Harry waits for Louis at his locker, grabbing his hand and walking him to class with a big smile. “Have a good day, _honey_.” he smirks, leaning in and kissing Louis’ cheek gently.

Louis pretends to straighten out a fake tie on Harry’s chest, “You're such a _sweetheart_ , I love you, _dear_.” Louis cooes, leaning up and kissing Harry’s cheek too, all dramatic and slobbery, then he’s slipping in the classroom door, leaving Harry with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

At lunch, Louis sits with his friends, laughing and in control, feeling untouchable, watching Harry’s table to see when he shows up. Just as Louis starts to wonder why Harry hasn’t showed up and is turning to look around the cafeteria, Harry sneaks in for a kiss on the cheek, instead landing it on his lips. They both giggle, ignoring Niall’s little gasp.

“Oops,” Harry giggles.

“Hi, guess thats the second one,” Louis whispers to Harry.

“S’pose so, see after work babycakes.” Then Harry is walking to his table, turning to throw in a melodramatic wink and all Louis can think is how nice Harry looks in his clothes.

“You guys just kissed.” Liam whispers as if it’s a secret.

“You let him wear your fucking stripes?” Niall asks in disbelief.

“God, you're so whipped.” Zayn adds, all of them nodding as Louis blushes and waves them all off with a roll of his eyes. He bites his lip, looking back to Harry to see him already staring.

 

 

xi.

Louis’ home basically becomes Harry's home, spending most his days and nights there. Jay loves it, too, finally relieved that Louis isnt constantly alone. And if she’s being honest, she wouldn't want anyone but Harry there to be with Louis.

Really, ever since the kiss everything gets dramatically worse, as in more pinning and mooning and brooding, and _god_.

 _See_ , Harry decided to start sitting with Louis at lunch, of course inviting Nick so he wasn’t being _rude,_ but Nick (thankfully) declined. So now it’s even more flirting, more gross cheek-kisses and winky faces, pet names and hand-holding under the table, and literally the air molecules around them spell out love in the air and they are the only damn ones too dense to see it. The lads are going to start puking pretty soon.

“Goddamn it Niall, just take them all!” Louis exclaim, throwing a pile of pickles at the blonde-haired boy (Pickles or not pickles, that is the question). During this time is when Zayn decides to lean over and whisper to Harry:

“Harry, mate?”

Harry looks up from Louis, eyes shining. “Hm?”

“You’re good for him, you know that?”

Harry smiles, “Really?”

“Yeah, mate. I see the way he stares at you.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, biting his lip.

“He really likes y-”

“-Harry!” Harry quickly turns toward Louis who is lifting and curling under his yeti arm, Niall laughing loudly and throwing pickle slices at Louis. Harry laughs too, but distinctively tightens his grip around Louis, pulling him closer to his side.

Louis grabs the pickle stuck in his fringe and throws it back at Niall, curling deeper into Harry's side, whisper-yelling: “Protect me from the bad man, Hazza!”

“I- _what?_ I’m not a bad man!” Niall says exasperated.

“Yes you are!” Came Louis’ muffled shouts from digging his face into Harry's side who was still laughing beside him.

“Li, I’m not bad, am I?”

“No, ‘course not, c'mere.” Niall is once again crying loud and fake into Liams chest, and before Harry could ask what Zayn was about to say, the bell was ringing.

 

 

xi.

It’s a Friday night and there is no school tomorrow. Harry is sprawled comfortably out across Louis’ bed, a striped shirt cinched around his stomach amply, hip bones protruding. A smaller Louis is curled up on top of him, tapping his chest repeatedly with his fingertips, eyes fluttering shut and open again. Harry hums happily in tune with the tapping, twirling a piece of Louis’ soft hair between his fingertips.

“S’making me tired,” Louis mumbles, turning to yawn into Harry's chest.

“Hm?”

“Hair. Making me tired.” Louis yawns louder now, proving his point further.

Harry laughs breathlessly, “Sorry, Ill stop.”

Louis shakes his head, lazily picking Harrys hand up and dropping it back down onto his head. Harry laughs louder now, but continues to twirl his hair, scratching softly at his scalp with his worn down fingernails, gently scraping at the hairs on the back of Louis’ neck.

Louis tangles his legs with Harrys, yawning again into his chest and letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment, before: “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah, Lou?”

“I love you.”

Harry blushes and squeezes Louis tighter in his arms, leaning down to kiss his head.

“I love you, too.”

 

 

xii.

Louis wakes up the next morning to a silent house and a little note stuck to his lampshade.

_taking the girls out for the day. have fun and i love both of you. -mum xx_

He smiles, turning his head that is laid on Harrys chest upwards to glance up at Harry, who surprisingly is up as well with a small smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, watching Louis rub at his eyes.

“Do you know when they left?” he yawns, blinking at Harry with a faint smile.

Harry nods, “About an hour ago I heard the door being shut and the car take off.”

“You've been up for an hour?”

“Yeah, been watching you sleep. Your nose twitches.”

Louis blushes, hiding his face in the crook of Harrys neck, softly biting down on his collarbone. "You're creepy."

“What, its cute.” Harry turns over a bit, so he is on his side and facing Louis, pulling him in closer to his chest. “We can go back to bed if you want.”

Louis smiles up at Harry through his eyelashes, leaning up and rubbing his nose against Harry's and making Harry laugh and shake his head. Louis snuggles in closer, sighing contently and wishing he could wake up every morning just like this. Hes warm and everything feels right. His mind isnt racing- its slow. Everything is at constant pace and he only focuses on the steady beat of Harry’s breathing. Louis likes this - this fuzzy feeling that stops the racing in his head and the shifting of his eyes. Its like melting. He pulls Harry closer, breathing him in, sinking into the subtle feeling of Harry scratching down his back.

_~Now it's three in the morning and I'm trying to change your mind. Left you multiple missed calls until my message your reply. Why'd you only call me when you're high?~_

Louis groans, hearing Harry's phone cut through the peaceful silence, “You're going to make me get that, aren't you?”

Harry laughs loudly, shoving Louis a little, reeling out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, “Please?”

Louis rolls his eyes, bringing his finger up and tracing over Harry's bottom lip before rolling over him. “You owe me, Harry Styles.”

“You deserve the world, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis shot him a playful glare, “Where's it at, lazy arse?”

“Bag.” Harry pulls the duvet up around him, stretching his feet out and feeling cold without Louis nuzzled up against him.

Louis crawls toward Harry's backpack, listening to his Arctic Monkeys ringtone blast into the silence. He unzips the main pouch, hearing Harry's voice singing lightly along to the song. He laughs quietly, searching through all the books, feeling high off the lightness of just - _everything_.

But then he starts to actually read the titles of the books and freezes.

He picks one up, staring at the cover with ‘ _Living with ADD_ ’ printed across it, then another, and another, and _more_. His eyebrows scrunch up and he is more confused than anything, wondering why - _how_ Harry find out about him. It’s just- it’s not that he _wanted_ to hide it from Harry or anything, and its not like its some huge _secret_ , he just - he thought he appeared 100%, completely _normal_ to Harry, is all. He thought that he was just some other teenage guy that didn't have to take medication and control his thoughts unless he wanted to get distracted with the snap of your fingers, and he’s just - he’s kind of hurt. Hurt with the heavy weight of not knowing how and why and what.

Harry looks over to Louis smiling, but then frowning, watching as Louis stares absent-mindedly at the book. He ignores the beeping of his phone, signaling a missed call, and he trails his eyes over Louis’ face: his furrowed eyebrows, his bottom lip tucked into his teeth, the way his eyes are shining but not with mirth or happiness.

“Um, Louis?” Harry says cautiously.

Louis looks up to Harry, tilting his head, his eyes watering up with confusion, “Why do you have these?”

“I - you, I just - I, um -” he cuts off, lowering his head, flushed with embarrassment.

Louis absent-mindedly kneads his palms into his eyes, trying to push away any tears threatening to fill his eyes, “Do you, like, think I’m weird, or do you pity m-?”

Harry quickly snaps his head up, “No, _no_ , Louis!" he says quickly, adding softer, " _Lou,_ ” he quickly lifts the duvet up and stumbles onto the floor beside Louis, “I - I don't think you’re weird because of that Louis, I mean - I - yeah, you're weird and you make me, like, feel weird, but like, really good weird, you know?”

Louis looks at him confused, biting his lip.

“Like - like you talk to your fish and you go to the same place every morning and you wear stripes, and its weird, but its good weird, the kinda weird that I just - that I just wanna get use to, and like, you just - you just make my tummy flutter and you make me feel so nice,” Harry doesn't look up, cheeks red, and head racing with different things, “I don't - I don't think you're weird because of the other thing though.”

Louis bites his lip, thumbing over the cover of the book, “‘S’not normal.”

Harry sighs sadly, opening up his arms and crossing his legs, “C’mere Lou, please?”

Louis crawls into his lap immediately, setting the book on the ground and wrapping his legs around Harry's waist, “Sorry I didn't answer the phone,” he murmurs into Harry's neck.

Harry laughs, holding Louis’ waist in his grip, “I don't care about the phone, Louis, I care about you. Why would you ever think I would think you're weird over something you can't control, though?”

Louis sighs, nuzzling his nose against Harry's neck with furrowed eyebrows, shrugging.

“I really don't care, Louis.”

Louis nods, “Why do you have all those books?”

“Because I _do_ care!” Harry says quickly, making Louis snort a bit, “just not - not in the way that you're thinking. I care in the way - that like, I want to be the best I can for you, like. Like I want to be able to understand more about it so I can be what you need, ya’know? I just,” Harry pauses, biting his lip, “I just really like you.”

Louis looks up to Harry, biting the inside of his cheek, “Like, like-like?”

Harry laughs softly, rubbing his hands down Louis’ side, “Yeah, like like-like.”

Louis squeaks, grinning, “I like-like you, too.”

Harry smiles, blushing, “So you're not - we’re okay? I didn't mean for it to bother you, I ju -”

Louis cuts him off, rubbing his thumb over Harry's cheek, “No, I sorta - I sorta thought you didn't know, is all. I thought you thought I was, ya’know, um, _normal_ , is all.”

Harry nods, chewing at his lip. “This - this doesn’t make you weird, though, you know that, right? You know that everyone has things that are like - like this about them. No ones normal, and - and even if there are normal people, I don’t - I like _you_ , Louis. And I just - I would have found out either way and - and I still wouldn’t have cared, y’know?”

Louis sighs, eyebrows bunched, “I know - I - I know, okay? It’s’ust one of those things that if you don’t say right away it gets harder to just, slip in?” he pauses shortly, adding in a hushed tone, “and I like you, too. So I care about what you think of me.”

“And I think you’re wonderful,” Harry whispers.

Louis rubs his thumb over Harry's bottom lip. “Can - can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Please,” Harry whispers quickly, pulling Louis closer to him so he is flushed against his chest, sitting in his crossed legs, “would love that.”

Louis smiles, his cheeks tinted red, and he rubs his nose against Harry's, “And can I kiss you? On the mouth?”

Harry grins, “Always. Yes.”

“Can I kiss you right _now?”_

Harry snorts, resting his forehead against Louis’, “Please do” he murmurs through his smile.

He bites his lip, eyes fluttering closed. He can feel Louis’ soft, warm breaths hitting his face and he loves it, love everything. His grip tightens around Louis’ waist, waiting for the gentle press, when -

“Wait,” he whispers, “ _where_ do I put my hands again?”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments/[tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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